Dead Cities and Lost Ghosts
by C-Unit
Summary: One eye is totally black. Stitches line my forehead. Blood is all over me, thicker under my nose and above my eye, a fine mist everywhere else." [One-shot]


DISCLAIMER: I never owned Lizzie McGuire anything. There's some dark content in here, so watch it. If you don't like violence, stay away.

**Dead Cities and Lost Ghosts**

At first, it's all white. It disorients me for a few seconds. But then, it fades. It fades into the scene before me. A city center, lined with towering skyscrapers and advertisements. Parked cars and taxis are everywhere. Newspapers and plastic bags float in front of me, listlessly dancing in the breeze. It's sunny out, but the tall buildings cast shadows everywhere.

Unfortunately, I seem to be the only person around. Everything is empty. There is no one else on the street in front of me. The silence entices me. I have an entire city to play with. It's all mine.

But suddenly, I feel a presence. A warm, sweet presence. I turn around and see Lizzie standing down the road from me, in front of a music store. She smiles at me, her hair blowing in front of her face.

"Come on, Gordo. Come play with me" she smoothly says. I can barely hear her, but in the silence of the city, her words speak volumes, deafening me. She gestures with her finger for me to come to her. I take a deep breath and…

That's it. As always, I wake up. It's just a dream. It has always been a dream of mine, a reoccurring one that hasn't gone away in almost three months. I always see the same thing, and I always wake up at the exact same moment. The moment I'm forced to do something.

Take deep breaths. Think about blue skies. Think about the swing set down at the old park.

And then, I'm calm. I look around and see that it's early morning. I get up and do my routine for school, changing into shorts and t-shirt. I go to school, not really thinking. I don't really think about anything these days. I just float along in a hazy, quiet bubble, trying to sort the unclear thoughts in my head. It's been unsuccessful so far. As soon as I start to work things out, my head just turns to mush and I can't force a thought out of my lethargic head.

As I walk down the bright, warm hallways, students pass by me, lost in their own conversation, in their own lives. They don't have time for David Gordon, and I don't care to make time for them. Even though I'm screaming inside, even though the thought of killing myself has crossed my mind more than once, I'm comfortable this way. I've built myself into this comfortable little rut, and I intend to stay this way.

The one moment of clarity I have all day is when I see Lizzie. There must be a football game today, because she's wearing her cheerleader outfit. Blue and gold and white, matching the school's colors. It's also matching the letterman jackets the big football players are wearing. They surround her. She's the beautiful girl they love to worship, and love to cherish. They give off the idea that she's their friend - they all love her and she's just one of the guys.

Nothing could be further from the truth, though. I overhear the conversations. When they look at her, their eyes, they're eyes of hunger, of spite and malice. I hear about how they think she's just another conquest – another notch in the belt if she wasn't such a _goddamned prude_. They want to take her to their backseats and go where she wouldn't let anyone go – deeper inside, until it hurt. They'd make her moan. They would make her come, and because it was them, she'd love every second of it.

The only reason they wanted her was because she was taken. Benjamin Ross, the brown-haired, all American quarterback and captain of the football team was going out with her. Lord knows that he had tried to screw her, but to no avail. She was waiting for the right person. She was waiting for marriage. The only reason I know, is because people talk. It's amazing what kind of shit you'll hear in the lunch line.

Right now, as I walk down the hall, Benjamin has his arm locked in hers. He's talking about something to the other footballers, and they pay attention to him. Every now and then they quickly glance at Lizzie, looking her over. Lizzie seems bored though, twirling her finger in her hair and looking at her binder. She looks up at me, and we lock eyes.

I don't know what to do. I'm nothing to nobody, and she's something to everybody. I feel like I've invaded her privacy, like I shouldn't look at her. But I can't look away. I'm too scared, a warm, anxious feeling spraying through my chest with every heartbeat. And then, she smiles. _At me_. I don't know what to do, so I smile back. I must look like an idiot, like a total fool, but she keeps looking at me and smiling.

And then, out of nowhere, Benjamin is heading towards me, stomping his feet, and bringing his buddies along with him.

"What was that?" he asks. He's trying to look me in the eye, but all I'm doing is looking away, at anything. The floor, a shoe, a girl down the hall.

"What was what?" I quiver. I'm such a pathetic little chicken-shit of a person sometimes.

"You were looking at my girlfriend" he said. He puts his hand on my shoulder and shoves my back against the locker.

"Sorry. I didn't know that wasn't allowed" I said. I meant it to be apologetic, but it came out sarcastic.

"Don't take that tone with me, you little faggot" he angrily says. I guess I offended his territorial instincts. I guess he was sick of fending off the advances of his "friends" and decided to focus on mine instead. I guess I should just roll with it. I didn't care what he did to me anymore.

I punch him, right in the jaw. He reels back a step and takes a breath. He snaps back and punches me in the stomach. I keel over and drop to my knees. _I can't breathe. I need to breathe._ Benjamin grabs me and drags me outside to the parking lot. His friends are following, whoops of joy emanating from their smiling faces. Lizzie follows, pale, arms crossed across her chest.

Benjamin throws me to the ground and starts to wail on me. I can feel the punches landing on my face with immense pressure and pain. I can't see anymore, but I can feel blood trickle from my nose, and some swelling already beginning to come forth. I use all my strength and shove my hands to his chin, pushing his face back. He grunts from the uncomfortable position, giving me a moment to cock my hand back and make a fist. I punch him in the eye as hard as I can and he shifts his wait. I knee him in the stomach, and he tilts to my right. I crawl out from under him but he's already on my back. He slams my head onto the concrete. Once, twice, three times. I feel something split in my forehead and a puddle of violet fluid splatters against the ground in front of me. He slams my head down again and everything goes black.

When I come to, everything's a groggy, disgusting mess. I can feel my face and chest, warm and wet from the blood I spilt. I can only hear muffled sounds, and the hot asphalt under my legs leaves uncomfortable grit in my skin. I groan.

"Whoa there, hold steady" says a muffled voice. I shake some of the cobwebs out of my head and look up, seeing Lizzie huddled over me. She's wiping the blood off of my face, my head resting on her lap.

"I don't feel well" is all I can muster up. I can feel blood in my mouth, a slurping sound coming from my gums. Lizzie laughs. A relieved laugh. A sing-song laugh.

"Don't worry. Kate Saunders went to get the school nurse. Just wait" she coos in my ear.

"Thank you" I say. She smiles at me and nods. I grimly remind myself that her smile is the reason I'm in this mess.

I stand in front of the bathroom mirror, naked. I look at my face. One eye is totally black, a popped blood vessel making it all red inside. Stitches line my forehead, above my right eyebrow. My cheeks are swollen and bruised. Crusted blood is all over me, thicker under my nose and above my eye, a fine mist everywhere else. My arms, legs, and chest have cuts and scratches all over them. I sigh at the unattractive sight and turn on the shower. Even the relief it brings my muscles makes me sting all over. My whole body feels tired and hard to move. That's the way it had been for months, but certainly not like this. This wasn't apathy. This was exhaustion, and I felt it so much more than before.

I lay in my bed and cried. Warm hot tears that streamed down my face and hurt my sores. I didn't know what I was crying about. Maybe the whole world had caught up with me. The comfort I felt with being numb, with feeling nothing, finally, finally made me feel bad. Guilty, even. So I cried until I fell asleep.

The empty city. Lizzie behind me. She tells me to come to her. To go and play. I take a breath, and the dream ends. I wake up in the middle of the night, more in pain then I was before. I ache so bad I don't move. My heart's beating like a jackhammer. I'm having an anxiety attack. Lizzie's messing with my head.

Take deep breaths. Think about blue skies. Think about the swing set down at the old park.

I wake up with my alarm and slowly go through my routine. My parents give suspicious looks at my face as I pass through the kitchen and out the front door. I stare at the ground and head towards the driveway. I look up, and Lizzie's there waiting for me. She makes eye contact with me, but this time, she looks like she's the one that doesn't know what to say. Her eyes dart from side to side and she looks uncomfortable. With a face like this, it's no surprise.

"Do you wanna walk to school with me?" she asks. I'm taken aback.

"I'd like that" I say, and I head towards her. She smiles and we walk side by side down the street. She starts talking to me, and I pay the utmost attention. The nothingness I felt, it wasn't gone, but it was forgotten. As long as Lizzie smiles back, then it won't be remembered anytime soon.

Lizzie beckons to me on the empty city street.

"Come on, Gordo. Come and play with me" she says, her finger calling me. I take a breath, and start to jog to her. I take her hand and we start a game of tag, on the empty street. I'm laughing as I chase after her, the only two people that matter are us. In the empty roads of my dreams, I'm no longer a ghost. I have purpose and meaning, and that's all I could ever ask for.


End file.
